


A Beautiful Parasite

by prozacplease



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Belly Kink, Bestiality, Body Horror, Dubious Consent, Forced Pregnancy, HYDRA Trash Party, Hurt No Comfort, Impregnation, Medical Examination, Medical Kink, Medical Procedures, Other, Past Abuse, Poor Bucky, Pregnancy Kink, Tentacle Monsters, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:05:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2803862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prozacplease/pseuds/prozacplease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier plays host to a tentacle monster’s offspring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my sweet [GlitterCrow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterCrow) for taking a look at this and doing some beta magic! And thank you to everyone else that put up with me while writing this monstrosity. Let me know what you think.

The asset isn’t alarmed when he realizes he’s been separated from his support team. The tunnels they’re clearing are a convoluted and complex network that sprawls beneath a large European city. It’s easy to get split up and the asset isn’t concerned about finding his way out. He continues on alone, rifle raised and eyes straining to see in the darkness. The flashlight mounted on his rifle offers only a narrow beam of light to see by. 

His name is Bucky, although no one has addressed him as such for more than sixty years. Concepts like names and dates mean nothing to Bucky now. He’s only interested in details that will help him complete the current mission. 

The tunnels are dank and dripping, floors and walls slowly eroding from the constant exposure to the musty water. Bucky’s heavy steel-toed combat boots make no sound as he steps through shallow puddles. Despite his muscular build and brute strength, he moves with silent fluidity. 

Bucky stops short when he hears a wet, slithering noise further down the tunnel. He points his rifle in different directions, hoping to illuminate the source and take aim at the same time. Something drips on Bucky’s head and runs down his face. At first he thinks it’s just water from a leaking pipe, but it’s too thick and viscous to be water. It’s slowly running into his eye but he can’t be distracted. He spots movement in his peripheral vision and fires at it several times. The gunfire is deafening in the enclosed space. 

Before the smoke clears, Bucky’s legs are pulled out from under him and his rifle is knocked from his hand. He doesn’t drop it. He would never drop his firearm. It was pulled from his grasp. 

Bucky’s brain barely registers the pain from his tailbone making contact with the hard ground, or the smell of gunpowder and stale water combining in his nostrils. He is, however, focused on the fact that something is wrapped around his legs and trying to drag him further down the tunnel. Something alive. 

With a growl, he rolls to his front and attempts to anchor himself to the floor with his metal hand and maybe even pull himself free. But the floor is slimy and his metal fingers can find no purchase. They scrape on the stone as he struggles, twisting onto his back again. Thick, heavy tendrils are snaking up his legs, gripping his thighs tight as he’s drug along the ground. Bucky pulls out the knife that’s strapped to his side and that too is wrenched from his grasp. The smooth, wet appendage comes in contact with his skin and begins winding up his arm. 

The most frustrating part is that he cannot clearly see his target. The flashlight on his discarded rifle is still shining, but doesn’t illuminate the tunnel well enough to reveal what’s attacking him. 

He hears a faint chittering, clicking noise as more otherwordly limbs begin to make contact with his body. Bucky fights against the tendrils but finds himself increasingly immobilized. The chattering noise grows louder and Bucky hears more movement further down the tunnel. Whatever has him ensnared is coming to see its prize. 

However, Bucky is more concerned about the movement of what he now believes to be a great number of tentacles. They’re wrapped around his arms and legs, slithering beneath his neck and back. A large one squirms up between his legs and Bucky lets out a fearful yelp. The tentacles are heavy and warm and Bucky can feel the incredible amount of muscle working beneath the slimy flesh. Whatever this is could easily kill him, but it seems to be exploring at the moment. 

He’s no longer getting dragged down the tunnel, but being stationary is almost worse. Bucky thrashes as a smaller tentacle begins to creep across his face. It’s wet with the same slick, snotty fluid that dripped on his face earlier. The tip of the tentacle is dextrous, gently feeling along the edge of Bucky’s mouth. Bucky thinks to bite it, but doesn’t want to open his mouth for fear of it slipping inside him. Instead, the tentacle slides upward and feels his nose for a moment before retracting completely, sliming Bucky’s face in the process. 

Despite all this, Bucky is more inconvenienced than scared. This was not part of the mission briefing and he is therefore unprepared. He wonders if his support team will find him or if he’ll have to get out of this himself. Bucky starts to shift and twist his metal arm against the grip the creature has on it, but it’s no use. His arm whines in complaint when he tries to pull himself free. 

The tentacles now seem to have an interest in his clothes. The clever little tendrils are pulling at his tactical belt and the fabric of his fatigues, wriggling under the hem of his jacket and the waistband of his underwear. 

Bucky snarls in disgust and indignation. “Stop,” he orders. “Let me go!” 

The sound of his voice echoing off the walls of the tunnel must startle the creature because all the tentacles jump in unison before continuing their work. They suddenly become violent, breaking the buckle on his belt and ripping his pants apart. 

Bucky thinks yelling maybe angered it. He struggles but remains silent, not keen on dying. Getting loud doesn’t work during painful experiments and it apparently doesn’t work on curious tunnel monsters either. But why are the tentacles so interested in the lower half of his body? 

The tentacles are soon in contact with the bare skin of his most intimate places and Bucky can’t close his legs to protect himself. It seems like the creature is searching for something. The wet, slick appendages slide all over his groin, looping around his strong upper thighs and tilting his pelvis upward. 

He is completely helpless and exposed, stripped half-naked and legs spread in a non-consensual offering. 

“Please don’t,” Bucky says, although he's not even sure what he’s trying to prevent from happening. 

Asking nicely doesn’t work either. He cries out and struggles when the end of a tentacle wriggles against his hole. Bucky pulls so hard at the tentacles holding his arms that his metal arm makes another unhappy hydraulic noise. Clenching up is useless and just makes the intrusion more painful. It stings and burns. 

The tentacle is slick but far bigger than anything Bucky is used to being penetrated with. He howls in pain and fear. The wordless, agonized sound echoes jarringly off the damp walls of the tunnel, hopefully loud enough for someone to hear him. 

The grip of the tentacles shift and loosen, but the creature doesn’t let him go. A few of the slippery tendrils slither over his heaving chest and abdomen, continuing to explore every part of his body. Bucky gasps as the tentacle inside him starts to work deeper, pushing far past the reach of any normal penetration. It’s feeling him and stretching him from the inside, a sensation that’s as uncomfortable as it is unsettling. 

Is it going to tear him apart and eat him from the inside out? Bucky wonders why it didn’t it go in through his mouth. Maybe his teeth were a deterrent. Maybe it wants to hear him scream. 

The tentacle slides into the lowest section of Bucky’s large intestine, making his left flank bulge. Bucky grits his teeth and growls at the sharp cramp that grips his entire abdomen in response to the unnatural intrusion. The end of the tentacle squirms inside him and it makes him want to vomit. 

Bucky practically starts sobbing in relief when the tentacle starts to retract. It vacates his body completely, leaving a mess of thick slime behind. The cramp is just beginning to ease when another wet appendage starts to push inside him. This one is different. A bit smaller, but stiffer and ridged. Bucky fights against it just like the first one. 

He’s horrified by the sudden weakness in his muscles and figures that his bowels have been perforated and he’s bleeding to death. His will to resist is gone and there’s a foreign, thready sort of peace taking hold of his mind. The creature is simply making him more pliant in its grasp. 

Suddenly, there’s pleasure. He is warm all over and his nipples get hard under the thick leather of his jacket. Bucky moans as tentacles glide over his hips and rub against his cock, which twitches from the attention. There’s still panic in his mind, but it’s distant and hard to focus on. 

The creature chatters and purrs above him, shifting it’s grip on Bucky’s body before starting to thrust in and out of him. Bucky gives a startled groan in response. He’s filled just right and starts to writhe. The creature’s phallus rocks against his prostate repeatedly, coaxing his dick into a full erection. 

Bucky arches his back and moans open-mouthed as the creature fucks him in earnest. He can’t remember ever feeling pleasure quite like this. His handlers allow him to touch himself if he’s been good, but this is different and infinitely better. He’s used to getting taken, usually from behind. Skinned knees and a raw ass. Getting his hair pulled, semen running down the inside of his thighs or splattered across his back. He often gets an erection during the assault, but it’s an involuntary reaction rather than arousal. They make fun of him for “liking it” regardless. 

But that’s all far from Bucky’s mind as he starts to build toward completion. It doesn’t take much more stimulation for him to orgasm. 

“Oh, oh, oh…” Bucky says frantically, starting to pant.

His whole body shudders when he comes, spattering milky white fluid on himself and the tentacles that are still slithering over his belly. The creature maintains the same depth and pace of its thrusts despite Bucky tightening up around it. Bucky moans softly as the creature continues to fuck his now sensitive, aching body. The creature’s movements intensify and Bucky groans at the overstimulation. He’s in his refractory period, but there’s still pleasure spiking up through him and making him squirm against the tentacles that hold him in place. 

Bucky is completely unprepared for the creature’s own climax, an explosive ejaculation that lasts more than ten seconds. There is a large amount of semen pooling inside him, thick and sticky and… there to stay? Bucky finds himself struggling to form coherent thoughts as the creature’s phallus pulls out of his body. However, all the other tentacles stay, wrapping him in their warm wetness. It now feels like his body is being cradled rather than restrained. 

Bucky knows that he should still be fighting to escape, but all he wants to do is sleep. He feels like he finished doing something very important and now needs to rest. The creature chitters at him and tenderly slides a tentacle down the side of Bucky’s face, making the corner of his mouth quirk up into a faint smile.


	2. Chapter 2

“I want multiple samples of whatever this substance is.” 

Bucky hears voices and sounds of movement all around him long before he’s able to open his eyes. The room is bright and smells like antiseptic. He knows exactly where he is, but he still tries to sit up immediately. There are multiple hands on his chest, easing him back down. 

“Woah there, big guy. Lie down.” 

“Do you want me to get the restraints?” 

“I just pushed some clonazepam into his line. He should be fine.” 

Bucky’s metal arm makes a threatening mechanical noise, but he obeys the command to lie down. He’s dizzy and didn’t really want to get up anyway. 

“Can you tell me what happened to you?” a man in green scrubs asks. “What’s the last thing you remember?” 

It takes Bucky a moment to realize that he’s being spoken to directly. He’s so used to them talking like he’s not even in the room. 

“I don’t remember,” Bucky says. 

There is a contusion on the back of Bucky’s head that could explain his memory loss, but the lie passing his lips makes him a little sick. He hardly has the capacity for being untruthful anymore, but he’s not supposed to lie. He gets punished for lying. However, he finds himself not wanting to divulge any details about what happened to him in the tunnel. 

“The team found you unconscious,” the man says. “It appears you’ve been sexually assaulted.” 

It’s not a question, so Bucky sees no reason to reply. He must have lost consciousness and the creature left him so he could be found. 

Bucky can tell that the man is annoyed with his lack of cooperation, but he doesn’t care. He stares beyond all the people surrounding him and focuses his gaze on the ceiling. His legs are bent at the knee and spread open. Two members of HYDRA’s medical staff are swabbing his inner thighs, which are still covered with both slime and semen. 

“Finish taking those samples and send him for decontamination,” the man says before leaving the examination room. 

Bucky lies there obediently while the few remaining staffers finish up, then remove his IV and all the leads that are stuck to his body. When they help him sit up, he finds that he’s dressed in a thin cotton hospital gown. 

No one asks him how he’s feeling or if he’s in any pain while they wait for the orderlies. But there is definitely pain when the two men dressed in white arrive and Bucky has to get down from the examination table. His arms and legs are incredibly sore from the forcible grip the creature had on him, but his ass hurts even worse. Bucky is fully aware of the looks exchanged between the medical staff and the orderlies as he limps.

The two men guide Bucky down the hall and into a room divided into tiled shower stalls. One man undoes the ties that fasten Bucky’s hospital gown while the other prepares a bucket of cleaning solution. 

“Stand in the stall with your arms out,” the orderly says when he removes the gown. 

Bucky obeys, although he’s unsure of which direction he should face. He stands with his arms up like a scarecrow, completely naked and already shivering. 

“You wanna soap or you wanna rinse?” one man asks the other. 

“I soaped last time. Your turn,” the other man replies. 

The man in charge of the soaping picks up a mop with a yellow sponge on the end and dips it into the bucket. He wipes the front of Bucky’s body with it in a few big sweeps. The soap reeks of antiseptic and stains Bucky orange. It stings every cut and scrape. The mop finds it way between Bucky’s legs and under his arms, up his neck and back down over his torso. 

“Turn,” the man orders. 

Bucky turns around to face the wall. He shudders when the wet mop makes contact with his skin and cleaning solution runs down his back. Being naked is nothing new, but having people behind him makes him feel vulnerable and at a tactical disadvantage. There’s a very good reason why they wash Bucky from a relatively safe distance. HYDRA has learned that cornering the Winter Soldier is not a good idea. 

Bucky isn’t in the mood for maiming anyone today, however. All he wants to do is sleep. 

“Spraydown,” the other man says. 

They both chuckle for reasons Bucky can’t quite grasp. It’s the only warning he gets before he’s sprayed with the hose. The soap stings, but the water is somehow worse. Incredibly hot and under a bit of pressure, it leaves Bucky’s skin splotchy and red. Sometimes they’re cruel and spray Bucky in the face and genitals with it. He gets in trouble if he shies away. 

“Turn,” the man says over the sound of the water. 

Bucky is in the middle of turning around when he gets sprayed in the ear. He ducks his head to get away from it and both men laugh like his reaction is high-class entertainment. Bucky doesn’t care; he just wants it to be over. 

The water stops and one of the men throws a towel at Bucky in the same moment. Bucky manages to catch the towel before it hits the wet floor, although there have been times when he wasn’t so lucky. 

The orderlies talk about how big Bucky’s dick is while they wait for him to dry off. Apparently his anatomy is wasted on a person like him. Bucky is disinterested and only half listens. He’s looking forward to sleeping in an actual bed. The clearing of the tunnels is projected to take several days, so Bucky knows he won’t be put into cryosleep. 

One of the men holds out the hospital gown for Bucky to thread his arms through. Bucky sees no point in putting the gown on again because it won’t keep him warm, but he doesn’t want to get in trouble for disobeying. 

His hair is still wet as they take him to yet another room. This one is small and windowless, furnished with only a bed, toilet, and sink. The door is made of steel and has a reinforced glass window. There is no door handle on the interior side. Everything is constructed to prevent a person from hanging themselves or making weapons. Bucky has never tried to do either, but HYDRA is thorough in their risk management. 

“A nurse will see you shortly,” one of the men says as he closes the door behind him. 

The tension goes out of Bucky’s shoulders upon the realization that he is, for the most part, alone. He’s always being watched, so that doesn’t even factor into his assessment of the situation. 

There is a small stack of folded clothes at the foot of the bed. Bucky pulls the hospital gown over his head, eager to put on something warmer. They gave him a long sleeved shirt, a pair of sweatpants, boxer briefs, and thermal socks. No shoes. 

Bucky is sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on the socks, when there’s a knock at the door. 

“Nurse,” a female voice says. 

A woman peers through the small glass window before the door opens. 

“Heard you had a rough mission,” she says as she steps into the room. 

Bucky examines the situation from where he sits. She’s left the door open as a precautionary measure. Bucky knows full well that there are two armed guards posted on either side of the door, just waiting for the nurse to scream for help. HYDRA makes frequent use of female nurses because Bucky is less likely to attack them. Not because they’re women, but because he seems to respond better to their higher pitched voices. There’s no danger of Bucky sexually assaulting them either. His sex drive is chemically repressed. 

The woman is small and soft looking, with curly brown hair tied in a ponytail. She’s wearing the same green scrubs the medical team wears, but doesn’t treat him quite the same way. 

“I’m okay,” Bucky says. “Just tired.” 

“Are you hungry?” she asks. “In a lot of pain?” 

Bucky gives a little shake of his head. He wants to sleep but something is wrong with the bed. 

“Can I have some more blankets?” Bucky asks. 

The nurse gives him a questioning look but nods. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

It takes twenty minutes, but the nurse returns with a neat stack of blankets. Bucky wonders if she had to get special permission to give them to him. 

“Just bang on the door if you need anything,” she says as she sets the blankets on the bed. 

Bucky merely nods in response. He’s thankful the nurse doesn’t press him for answers like the medical team did. 

When he’s alone again, he sets about “fixing” the bed. Bucky creates himself a nest, piling the blankets around him to create a bit of a barrier between him and the rest of the room. His movements are completely compulsive and out of his control. It’s troublesome, but he feels safe when he settles down in his nest. Bucky curls up on his side and covers himself with a few blankets. Sleep comes easy, but so do the dreams. 

Bucky dreams of sea water. The salty liquid fills his mouth and stings the inside of his nose. It’s either swallow or drown, so he swallows. And swallows and swallows. He’s filled with it until it’s literally running out of his eyes. He wakes up with tears streaming down his face. Bucky is disturbed only by the lack of emotion behind the tears. He’s neither sad nor happy upon waking. In reality, he is nothing but hungry. 

However, Bucky’s not interested in getting out of bed yet. He doesn’t know it, but he’s slept for over eighteen hours. Mostly he just wonders when he will be fetched for the continuation of his mission. HYDRA has actually sent the team ahead without him. 

Bucky shifts around to get himself comfortable again and feels a strange amount of pressure in his abdomen. He reaches down to touch his belly under the blankets. A soft gasp escapes him when he finds it to be round and tight. It doesn’t hurt, but he does feel full. Bucky’s heart starts to beat faster when he reaches under his shirt and the waistband of his pants to examine himself more closely. As if in response to his quickened pulse, there’s a faint flutter low in his stomach.


	3. Chapter 3

After checking to make sure no one is peering at him through the window in the door, Bucky rolls onto his back and lifts up his shirt. Most of the fullness is concentrated in his lower abdomen, making him look… pregnant. Bucky swallows thickly when he puts together what happened to him. The creature mated with him. It filled him with its seed and impregnated him. And now he’s got offspring inside him. Instead of panicking, Bucky finds himself pulling down his shirt and running his right hand over his belly. It’s a rather pleasant curve and it feels good to touch it. 

Bucky rolls onto his side again, wrapping his arms around himself and feeling the tiny creature wriggle inside him. His heart slows down and he is pretty blissful lying there. He knows that he’s in danger and he needs to tell his handlers that something is wrong with him. But he is also strangely protective of the life he’s harboring inside his body. It’s alive only because of his biological hospitality. 

He dozes a little bit before his hunger awakens him again. Despite feeling so full, he’s starving. Getting out of bed isn’t as difficult as Bucky anticipates. Bucky makes a detour to the sink and drinks a few handfuls of water before he bangs on the door with his metal fist. The room is small enough that he’s able to make it back to the bed before someone responds. 

The same nurse from the night before opens the door. Bucky has slept so long that she’s on duty again. He’s sitting crosslegged on the bed, hunched over a bit. Both his posture and his baggy shirt hide his midsection. 

“You slept a long time,” the nurse says. “I was a little worried about you.” 

Bucky isn’t quite sure how to respond to that. “The mission went ahead without me?” he asks uncertainly. 

“I don’t know for sure. You’re under observation for the time being,” the nurse says. “What do you need?” 

“I’m hungry,” Bucky says. 

The nurse tells him she will bring him something and ducks out. With the door closed, Bucky starts touching his abdomen again. The shape of it is a bit different with him sitting up and Bucky explores his new curves all over again. 

His meal comes in the form of a cafeteria tray. There’s really no place to eat, so Bucky sits on the bed and sets the tray in his lap. It’s a rather unappetizing spread—some sort of processed meat patty, a scoop of mashed potatoes with congealed gravy, and a piece of bread. But Bucky eats ravenously, compelled by both an uncharacteristic hunger and a strange desire to nourish his body. He’s normally disinterested in food and needs prodding to finish an entire meal. This time, however, it’s like he can’t eat fast enough. He’s so full when he finishes, even though he ate a regular portion of food. Whatever is inside him must be compressing his stomach and probably his other organs as well.

Bucky sets the tray by the door like he’s supposed to and retreats back to his nest. He’s still not in any pain, but it takes some maneuvering to get himself comfortable this time. There is no discernible movement inside him when he reaches down to touch his abdomen. 

Bucky can’t believe he’s tired again. He’s used to being able to run on very little sleep, and he knows he should be more concerned about potentially missing out on his mission. But his bed is warm and he nuzzles his face against the sheets and blankets as he settles down on his side again. 

Maybe fostering this life inside him is his new mission. Doubt crowds that idea out of his mind, mainly because this directive wasn’t given to him by HYDRA. He will be in grave trouble for following the orders of another master. These thoughts compound and fold in on themselves as Bucky falls asleep again, arms loosely wrapped around his distended belly. 

Bucky is dead asleep when he’s startled by the sensation of hands touching him. His heart leaps in fright and the little creature inside him squirms uneasily. It feels like it’s taking up even more space inside him than before. 

“Easy, easy,” the nurse says. “Just checking you out.” 

Bucky makes a noise and turns his shoulder to prevent her curious hands from exploring the front of his torso. He shifts closer to the wall, pressing his forehead against the cool, smooth concrete. His face is hot. 

The nurse sounds exasperated when she asks, “What’s gotten into you?” 

If only she knew. 

“Will you please let me take a look at you?” she asks, trying to turn him over. “I don’t want to have to get the doctor.” 

Bucky stiffens up. Of course he doesn’t understand the nature of the threat, but he detects the coercion with ease. Having to fetch the doctor will indicate his noncompliance and result in punishment. 

The nurse pats Bucky’s shoulder as he finally rolls onto his back. It takes a bit of effort with as full as he is right now. He runs his hand over his abdomen and finds it to be even rounder than it was before. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” the nurse says, losing her professional composure. 

Bucky remains silent, eyes flicking nervously from the nurse to the ceiling. Lying on his back is uncomfortable and makes him lightheaded. 

“What happened to your poor tummy?” she asks, pulling up his now tight shirt. 

“I don’t know,” Bucky says. He tries to sound as pitiful as possible in an attempt to divert any scrutiny away from his lies. “There’s something moving inside me.” 

The nurse glances at him, horrified as she starts to feel his belly. 

“This has to hurt,” she says. 

“Just a lot of pressure,” Bucky replies. 

He grits his teeth when the nurse begins palpating his abdomen. She creeps her fingers along his skin, pressing here and there. The application of pressure makes the creature squirm again. The nurse gasps when she pushes just above Bucky’s pubic area and feels the subtle movement inside him. 

She checks Bucky’s pulse and asks if he’s breathing okay before leaving the room in a hurry. Bucky wants to lie on his side again, but he has an inkling that he should stay where he is. He can vaguely sense something is wrong. 

The nurse returns with a man that Bucky recognizes. He was the one asking him questions in the exam room. Bucky assumes he’s the doctor in charge, as he’s now wearing a labcoat over his scrubs. 

“Are you certain it wasn’t just some catastalsis?” The doctor’s voice is condescending as he follows the nurse into Bucky’s room. “He ate an entire meal for the first time I can remember. Not to mention that his digestive system is a wreck from—” 

The doctor stops short when his eyes fall on Bucky. His gaze makes Bucky want to roll over and face the wall again. The nurse can offer no comforting words to Bucky as the doctor snaps on a pair of blue latex gloves. He doesn’t touch Bucky with the gentle caution that she did. 

“My, this looks uncomfortable,” the doctor says. 

Bucky winces as the doctor presses just below his ribs and starts to work his way down. He doesn’t understand how this change in his body could indicate untruthfulness, but it still makes his heart start to beat hard again. 

“Where did you say you felt it?” the doctor asks over his shoulder. 

“Right above his pubic area,” the nurse says quietly. 

She avoids Bucky’s betrayed gaze and looks at the floor instead. The doctor touches Bucky from hip to hip, pushing so hard that Bucky can’t help but gasp from the discomfort. 

“I don’t feel any movement,” the doctor says dismissively. “No bulging flanks, so probably no fluid thrill. No distress, respiratory or otherwise. But I’m going to order an ultrasound. Get him to the exam room and make sure he drinks the appropriate amount of water beforehand.” 

“Certainly,” the nurse says. 

The doctor looks at Bucky pointedly. “I’m not sure what happened to you, but we will find out,” he says. “Although some honesty might expedite your treatment.” 

Once again, the doctor is not asking a question, so Bucky doesn’t say anything. He’s dizzy and can only focus on the sensation of his heart leaping in his throat. The doctor leaves but the nurse stays behind, looking nervous. 

“Is there something you’d rather tell me instead?” she asks softly. “I can tell the doctor for you.” 

Bucky is so confused by the kindness that he can only bite his bottom lip and shake his head. His only worry is the procedure that the doctor mentioned. He’s never had an ultrasound. Or he can’t remember ever having one. 

“Do ultrasounds hurt?” Bucky asks. 

“Not at all,” the nurse says with a little shake of her head. “Let’s get you down the hall.” 

Bucky doesn’t know if she’s lying or not, but he supposes it doesn’t matter either way. This trip down the hallway is a lot longer than the walk from the shower to his room. 

The floor is cold through Bucky’s socks and he finds himself hunching over a bit as he walks next to the nurse. Walking upright is uncomfortable for whatever reason. His metal arm is heavy and throws off his stride, so the addition of a full belly makes him even more gimped up than usual.

The nurse hovers by his side, watching him closely. Her white sneakers are silent on the polished concrete. She moves like she wants to put a steadying hand on his back or his shoulder, but resists. 

The room she takes him to is similar to the exam room he was in before. A small space occupied by a padded examination table and a large machine with a monitor attached to it. Bucky stops short in the doorway and the nurse has to prod him in the back to get him to cross the threshold. She flicks on the lights and tells him to sit on the table. 

Bucky isn’t thrilled about having to change into yet another gown for this examination. However, the nurse tells him he can keep his socks on if he wants. 

“Do you have to urinate?” the nurse asks him.

Bucky gives a little shake of his head and the nurse begins to give him glasses of water to drink. Bucky doesn’t understand why and the questions he ventures to ask are answered in general terms. Having a full bladder will aid the ultrasound. Bucky wants to argue that he’s already pretty full in other ways. But he knows better than to backtalk, even to nurses.

The cold water from the tap makes Bucky’s stomach churn. The nurse suggests drinking slower but it doesn’t help. Bucky is increasingly despondent every time he finishes the glass and the nurse simply refills it. 

“How much do I have to drink?” Bucky asks, staring down into the full cup in his hands. 

He’s lost count of how many times she has refilled it. 

“As much as I tell you,” the nurse says. 

Her voice is gentle but Bucky recognizes the non-answer. It frustrates him. The first truly negative feeling he’s felt all day. The large amount of benzodiazepines from yesterday have left his system completely, leaving him more likely to get agitated. The sleepy, contented feeling he had earlier is gone too. Now he’s just upset from all the unknown variables in his current mental equation. 

After drinking the required amount of water, he’s made to sit and wait for nearly an hour before the doctor comes in. He’s followed by another man in the same green scrubs. The small room is suddenly crowded and Bucky fights the urge to escape the cramped space. 

“Is your bladder full?” the doctor asks. 

Bucky nods anxiously. 

“Good,” the doctor says. “Scoot back on the table and lie on your back.”


	4. Chapter 4

The remaining fluid in Bucky’s stomach sloshes as he obeys the command. He growls softly at the discomfort of having to lie on his back again. He lifts his arms to fold them over his face, but the doctor tells him to keep his hands at his sides. Bucky keeps his eyes fixed on the ceiling as the doctor lifts his gown and puts on latex gloves again. Rather than covering the lower half of Bucky’s body with a sheet, he’s left completely exposed.

Bucky is bloated from just below his rib cage all the way down to his pelvis. His belly is so tight that it stands out against his ribs and hips. There are marks on his skin from his underwear and sweatpants pressing on him.

“Very curious as to how this all happened in under 24 hours,” the doctor says. “Are you in pain?”

Bucky shakes his head, although his full bladder is very uncomfortable. The doctor uses both hands to push along Bucky’s sides, feeling his abdominal muscles. The pressure causes a sharp cramp to arc through Bucky’s midsection. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and makes a noise low in his throat.

He’s allowed to make noise when something hurts, but he cannot form his complaints into words of protest. Most of the time, Bucky is so agonized that he can’t speak coherently anyway. However, he’s paid dearly for the few times he’s managed to say “don’t” or “stop.”

“Tender, though,” the doctor continues.

He motions for the technician to come over so he can perform a fluid thrill test. The technician places the side of his hand against the midline of Bucky’s abdomen. The doctor taps one side of Bucky’s torso while feeling the other side.

“No fluid thrill, as I suspected,” the doctor says. “Whatever is inside him is mostly solid.”

“Some sort of mass?” the technician asks.

The doctor shrugs as he continues palpating Bucky’s abdomen.

“We’re going to find out,” he says.

The doctor stands aside while the technician prepares Bucky for the ultrasound. The technician takes a bottle of gel and squirts a decent amount of it on Bucky’s abdomen. The clear gel is thick and cold, making goosebumps rise on his taut skin.

Bucky is a bit alarmed by the device the technician holds in his other hand, a transducer that is connected to the ultrasound machine. No one in the room is looking at Bucky when the technician begins the examination. All eyes are focused on the monitor.

Bucky groans softly when the technician presses the transducer against his gel-slathered belly. He’s so full and his bladder is aching with the urge to be emptied.

“Relax,” the technician says, although it’s more of a warning than a comforting gesture.

The technician starts just below Bucky’s ribs, moving the transducer from one side to the other.

“Looks like a little bit of fluid in the peritoneal cavity,” the technician says, sliding the transducer down further.

Bucky tries to not squirm. He manages to stay still, but not keep quiet. The technician gives him a sideways glance and the doctor’s eyes fall on him.

“Ultrasounds don’t hurt,” the doctor says, as if Bucky were faking it to get them to stop. Since when has that ever worked?

Dissatisfied with the visuals of Bucky’s upper abdomen, the technician sweeps the transducer down even lower. Bucky moans and folds his arms over his face. This time he’s not told to keep his arms at his sides. The creature moves inside him, uneasy again. It’s as if it can sense its host’s distress.

“Jesus,” the technician says. “What the hell is that?”

It’s difficult to see in the grainy black and white image on the monitor, but nestled in the loops and folds of Bucky’s small intestine is a gestational sac. And inside is a small, wriggly creature with tentacles.

The doctor is silent while the technician moves the transducer all over, trying to get a better view of the mass. The monitor shows a few seconds of movement and then the transducer loses it. Bucky is watching the screen, both curious and strangely removed. The technician manages to catch some movement again in time for Bucky to see it. A sudden flood of emotion tightens up Bucky’s chest.

He knows this is not a normal reaction, that he should be panicked and fearing for his life. But his sense of danger is blunted by his parasite-altered brain chemistry.

All Bucky hears is the doctor saying “emergency laparotomy” before the technician is hastily wiping the gel off his abdomen. In this moment, Bucky realizes what is going to happen. They’re going to cut him open and remove whatever is inside him. Bucky has a strong urge to protect himself and his offspring.

It’s _alive_ and it’s _his_.

No one notices that Bucky’s eyes are wet and he’s blinking rapidly as they prepare him for surgery. He doesn’t want to allow HYDRA to take this away from him. But he knows that any resistance is pointless and will probably result in punishment.

The nurse helps Bucky sit up and inserts a large gauge IV needle into the top of his hand. They need to have a line established in case he needs unexpected fluids during the surgery. Bucky is just impressed she found a usable vein. Most of his are collapsed.

“I have to urinate,” Bucky says quietly.

The nurse secures the IV needle with a few pieces of medical tape. “We’ll make a detour before we go to the operating room,” she says.

The nurse gives Bucky an unexpected amount of privacy to relieve himself. She lets him enter a bathroom for personnel by himself to use a urinal. Bucky is to the point where his bladder feels paralyzed. He probably urinates for a full 40 seconds, although it takes another minute of sporadic flow for him to be satisfied with the emptying of his bladder. There is a lingering ache that stays with him until he enters the operating room.

They seat him on the edge of the operating table and undo the ties that fasten his hospital gown. The room is a flurry of movement—the doctor is scrubbing his hands in a nearby sink, nurses are preparing trays of shiny instruments and putting on plastic smocks. Bucky feels very far removed from the situation, as if he’s merely an observer and not the main focus.

A man already wearing a full smock, gloves, and a surgical mask comes over to Bucky.

“We’re going to give you an epidural,” he says, moving around the table to stand behind Bucky. “You’ll be awake for the procedure, but you won’t be in any pain.”

Bucky gives a nod of understanding. He doesn’t want to do this, but he has no choice but to comply.

“Lean forward and round your back,” the man says. “Stay very still.”

It’s hard to do with his belly sticking out, but Bucky manages to comply. The man swabs his back with something cold, which always precedes the sting of a needle. Bucky wraps his arms around his middle and makes a small noise of discomfort when the needle slips in between two of his vertebrae.

The man prepares the epidural while he waits for the analgesia to work. He reminds Bucky to remain very still before continuing. Bucky braces for more pain, but there’s only pressure as the epidural needle is inserted into his spine and a thin catheter is threaded through it.

A tingling sensation creeps into his lower body as the medication starts to take effect. He’s losing the sensation in his legs and that scares him a bit.

“You should already be going numb,” the man says, securing the catheter to Bucky’s back with a few pieces of medical tape. “Let’s have you lie back.”

The man helps Bucky position himself on the operating table. It’s not long before Bucky has lost all the feeling in the lower half of his body. A nurse hooks him up to an IV line and gives him a dose of clonazepam while two others set up a surgical drape to prevent Bucky from seeing the procedure. He turns his head fretfully when a nurse threads oxygen tubing behind his ears and inside his nose. His resistance gets no reaction out of the nurse, who persists until she completes her task.

Bucky is trembling from both fear and cold. They are going to split him open and prise the tiny creature from him. He’s not worried about himself. The incision, however large, will be sutured and mend in a few weeks. He may face some punishment if HYDRA rightly decides he has been withholding information. But the creature… The little living thing… What will become of it? Bucky doubts he’ll even get to lay eyes on it before it’s whisked away. His eyes fill with tears again and he continues to shiver, body at the mercy of hormones and pain medication.

He can’t feel it, but the medical team is already beginning the procedure. They swab Bucky’s lower abdomen with an iodine solution that stains his skin dark orange. The doctor makes an incision just above Bucky’s dark thatch of pubic hair, careful to not slice into his bladder or intestines.

The doctor is speaking with the rest of the medical team, but Bucky isn’t paying much attention. He’s focused on the hints of pressure and other vague sensations he’s still able to feel high up in his chest.

“I’m going to widen the incision a few centimeters on each side. This thing’s huge,” the doctor says from behind his surgical mask.

The silvery scalpel dips into Bucky’s flesh and parts the wound until it extends well beyond the width of Bucky’s pubic area. He’s nearly open from hip to hip when they place the retractors to hold the incision open. Bucky’s intestines, compressed and displaced by the gestational sac, are visible. The sac is grayish and threaded with a few spidery blood vessels.

The doctor probes around it with his fingertips, trying to determine if the sac is attached to anything. He frowns, having thought the mass would somehow be located within the asset’s intestinal wall. The outer layer of the sac is minimally adhered to Bucky’s viscera and is easily excised with a scalpel. Pulling it out presents a difficulty in itself.

With the help of a few technicians, some pressure is applied to Bucky’s upper abdomen while the doctor places his hands in the incision and tries to grasp the slippery sac.

Bucky grits his teeth and growls at the sensation, which prompts a response from the doctor.

“Are you in pain?” he asks from behind the drape.

Bucky doesn’t respond right away and his ribs earn a sharp pinch from a gloved hand. The doctor repeats the question, voice full of impatience. He’s aggravated from having his work interrupted.

“No,” Bucky says.

“Then be quiet,” the doctor says.

There is a bit of a commotion when the creature wriggles as the doctor finally pulls it from Bucky’s body.

“Jesus, it’s—”

“Here, put it in this container. The lab will want it.”

Bucky whimpers when he hears the wet sound of the creature being dropped into a plastic container. Is it still alive? Is it hurting? Bucky would be trying to get off the table with his guts hanging out if the lower half of his body wasn’t numb and useless.

While the technicians deal with the contents of the plastic container, the doctor wastes no time in further exploring Bucky’s abdominal cavity for any other abnormalities. When he is satisfied, a nurse assists him in stitching Bucky’s muscles and other underlying tissue back together with dissolvable stitches. His skin is sutured with surgical staples. Bucky flinches with every _ka-chunk_ of the staple gun.

 

* * *

 

Bucky wakes up in his room without any memory of how he got there. He’s sore and disoriented, legs still tingling from the epidural. He’s lying unnaturally on the bed as if someone placed him there while he was unconscious. Bucky lifts his right hand and stares at it. It’s heavily bandaged.

He vaguely remembers pulling the IV line out of his hand and trying to stab a nurse with the needle.

Bucky’s movements are sloppy as he lifts his rumpled hospital gown. Instead of a full, round belly, he’s faced with the aftermath of the laparotomy. There is still some residual swelling from the trauma, however. His lower abdomen is held together with staples and strips of medical tape and his skin is stained orange.

Bucky runs his hand over the sutures and starts to cry freely as he lays back against the bed. Tears are running down his temples and into his hairline. He feels empty.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  [Come hang out with me on Tumblr!](http://www.prozacplease.tumblr.com)
> 
> ♥ Comments are always appreciated. ♥


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